Agnith's Promise: The Vildecaz Talents, Book 3 (27 page)

“Whom would you like to see first?  What reports would be most useful to you now?”  the Housekeeper-General asked as they moved passed the arched doors to the kitchens.

“I should like to have information from Hoftstan Ruch, and Poyneilum Zhanf, I suppose,” said Ninianee, and caught a change of expression in General Rocazin's eye.  “What is it?  Did Zhanf leave?”

“No.  No, it’s not that,” said General Rocazin, doing her best not to betray her distress to Ninianee so soon.  “It’s Hoftstan Ruch.  I regret to tell you that Ruch is dead.  Zhanf will explain it to you.  I’ll let him know you’ll want a report from him.  Before or after you bathe?”

Ninianee sighed.  “Before.  I’ll be in my apartments for half an hour.  Please ask him to visit me.  I have been told that my sister isn’t here  – do we know when she’s expected?”

“She has yet to return from Tiumboj, and we have had no word of when that might be.  We are assuming the dreadful conjure-storm is the reason for her delay.  We’ve had almost no travelers from the Porzalk Empire since the start of winter, and those few who come tell of vast devastation everywhere.”  General Rocazin put her hands to her face as if to hide her emotions.  “Your pardon, Duzeon.  This is all more than you should hear so soon after your return.”

“When better?”  Ninianee asked.  “There is so much to attend to that the more I know and the sooner I know it, the more likely I am to make informed decisions.”  She glanced back at Doms.  “We may have a difficult few hours.”

“Hardly surprising  – we’ll probably have a difficult few weeks,” said Doms.  “With both you and your sister away, and your father wholly missing, it’s not surprising that the Duzky should have problems beyond the usual.”

General Rocazin ducked her head in agreement.  “I’d be remiss if I didn’t do my utmost to assist you in all the demands of your return.  I’m sorry to have such news for you as I do.  It would be easier if your sister or your father were here.”  She pointed to the stairs leading up to the main corridors and Ninianee’s apartments.  “Go on up.  I’ll have wine and cheese sent up to you while you speak with Magsto Zhanf and wait for the bath-house to be readied for you.”

“Very good,” said Ninianee, giving the Housekeeper-General another respect. 

Doms offered Rocazin one as well, and prepared to climb the stairs with Ninianee, but paused to say, “Could you include a bowl of sweet pickles with the wine and cheese?  Or something savory?”

“Certainly,” said General Rocazin, already moving toward the arches leading into the kitchen.

As they started up to the second floor from the main one, Doms remarked, “Everyone in the household seems to be watching you.”

Ninianee had become uncomfortably aware of members of the staff standing on landings and along the galleries to catch a glimpse of her.  “You’d think they’d never seen me before.”

“You’ve been gone a long time, especially, as General Rocazin observed, since your sister hasn’t returned yet, nor your father.  It will take everyone a little while to get used to you being here, and that might bring some awkwardness.  To make the circumstances more demanding, your presence is doubly important now because you’re the only one here.  You’re an omen of returning stability at the least, and a much-desired continuity for the entire staff.”  He nodded toward the corridor leading to her apartments.  “Is that the way we go?”

“Yes.”  She wanted to take his hand but held off, knowing how gossip would magnify that simple gesture.  “Are you tired?”

“I am, as are you.  But by the sound of it, rest is some hours off.”  He paused at the door to her apartments.  “Your deputy should arrive in a few minutes, if you want to straighten up a bit.”

She laughed.  “My hair is a mess, I know, and I’m dressed like a poacher from Cazach Forest.  If Giuynee is about, I should send for her, and ask her to work what repairs she can on me.  She’ll make the best of the situation, given how little time we have until we dine.”  With that, she opened the door to her private reception room, thinking to see something utterly familiar. 

“Duzeon!”  Giuynee shrieked, respecting her lavishly.  “It’s true.  You’re back!”

“I am,” said Ninianee, looking about her as if recalling the chamber from her youth, a place of distant memory, not a room she had left some four months ago.

Giuynee bustled up to her.  “Your hair . . . Duzeon, you must let me do something to . . . and you’re so thin.  You clothes . . . I’ll get something from your dressing-room.  By Mysinjrau!  You’ll take some efforts on my part to restore you.”

“I thank you in advance for those efforts,” said Ninianee a bit impatiently.  “For now, if you’ll tidy and dress my hair, I have to see Poyneilum Zhanf and then go down to the bath-house  – the Yaolaj and I.  There’s a return meal being prepared for sunset.”

As if she had been unaware of Doms’ presence, Giuynee blinked and made another respect.  “Yaolaj.  I didn’t know you were here.  I’m . . . I’m sorry to have slighted you.”

“I’m not slighted,” said Doms, amusement curving the corners of his mouth.  “But if you don’t mind, I’m going to sit down.  It’s been a long journey.”

“Yes.  Yes, it must have been,” said Giuynee as she pulled up a low-backed chair.  “Duzeon, sit down.”  She patted the chair nervously.  “I hardly know where best to begin.  I’ll try to do something . . . I’ll get the shears for later, but for now, a Mozh-cloth scarf and a loose braid twisted into a coronet will do, at least until after you bathe.  But your curls are all wild in spite of the bands.”  She pulled at the plain linen bindings that held Ninianee’s hair clubbed, and gave a yelp as she saw the bits of leaves and twigs still stuck in it.  “I’ll get the broad-toothed comb; it may take an hour to get this all untangled and free of . . . of bits and pieces,” she said, and rushed toward the bedroom.

While Giuynee busied herself seeking out the broad-toothed comb, there was a discreet knock at the door, and Poyneilum Zhanf announced himself.

“Come in, Magsto, please,” Ninianee responded, motioning to Doms to pull another chair up to hers for him.  “The high-backed one with the flexible frame would be best.”

Zhanf admitted himself, making a respect as he closed the door.  “I’m very much gratified to have you once again at home, Duzeon Ninianee.”

“Thank you,” she said, standing enough to provide a respect.

“And Doms Guyon,” Zhanf went on.  “I’m glad you’re safe.”  His expression was quizzical, as if he was unsure if he should continue with Doms in the room.

“You may speak openly with me, Magsto.  Doms has become my Official Suitor, and is privy to anything that has import to me.” 

“Ah,” said Zhanf, showing no astonishment at this announcement, and adding,  “May this be a joy for you both.”

“So we hope,” said Ninianee, continuing, “But that isn’t foremost in my thoughts. What’s happened in my absence?  General Rocazin tells me that Hoftstan Ruch is dead.  What else has happened?”

“Yes, Ruch is dead, and, I am sorry to tell you, most dreadfully.”  With some hesitation, he described how Hoftstan had brought the spell-mummies to his attention, and then how he had been found murdered in the tower.  “All the Castle was in an uproar as soon as the crime was known. I don’t mean to cause you distress by describing how he was killed, but I believe the gruesomeness of his killing was not only intentional, but significant.”

“It sounds pretty appalling, all that savagery,” said Ninianee.  A jolt of nausea that had twisted through her as Zhanf described how the body was found was subsiding now, but she still regarded the magician with indignation on behalf of the dead seneschal.  “Why would anyone kill Hoftstan Ruch?  How could such slaughter be significant, except as a display of ferocity?”

“We haven’t determined that yet, nor have we been able to single out those who might be responsible, although we have made a great effort to determine the guilty persons involved,” said Zhanf, and went on to describe how eager Rai Pareo had been to leave Vildecaz after Ruch’s death.  “He was distraught when he found the body, and he never rid himself of his distress.”

“Why was that?”  Ninianee asked.  “Did you think he might be involved?”

“His presence here was puzzling from the first,” said Zhanf.  “And we recently found three objects that make it apparent that there was more happening here than we first supposed.” 

Ninianee leaned forward, her full attention on Zhanf. “How do you mean?  What objects?”

Before Zhanf could answer there was a sharp rap on the door and Heijot Merinex called out, “Do let me come in to greet you properly, Duzeon Ninianee. You’ve been gone so long.   By Agnith and Nyolach, it is a joyous day for Vildecaz.”

Ninianee glanced at Doms and then at Zhanf.  “It must come sooner or later,”  she said and raised her voice.  “Yes.  Do come in, Merinex.”

“There’s likely to be more of this,” Doms remarked quietly, cocking his head toward the door.  “Everyone wants to be sure you’re actually here.”

The door was flung open and Merinex came into the room, making a lavish respect, the glittering sleeves of his gaihups as grand as any magician’s at Court.  “How good to have you here at last, Duzeon.  I’ve been following all the rites to aid you in your travels so you might come safely home again.”

“Good of you,” said Ninianee, though she thought such observances were part of his duties.

“I hear you’ve been told about Hoftstan Ruch  – a terrible thing.”  He bent forward as if to impart a personal message to Ninianee.  “I wish I could give you news of your sister or your father, but so far, nothing.”

“How unfortunate,” said Ninianee.  “But such is the way of magic.”

As if he knew what she meant, Merinex said, “Everyone knows magic has its limits.”

Ninianee heard a sound at the door, and said, “I think this must be our little meal.”

“Yes,” said Doms.  “We’re both hungry.”

Merinex swung around and gave Doms a hard look.  “Vildecaz no doubt owes you a debt of gratitude, Yaolaj,” he said grandly.

“Vildecaz doesn’t owe me anything,” said Doms at his most matter-of-fact, and went to open the door.

Zhanf signaled Merinex, and said quietly, “If you would give the Duzeon and the Yaolaj a little time together, you and I can discuss how to deal with this return.”  He glanced at Ninianee.  “We’ll continue our discussion then.”

“A fine notion.  There are rites we should perform, and a ceremony the people will expect.  A meal is necessary, of course, and the usual festivities.  With First Day approaching, a greater celebration will be expected.”  Merinex respected Ninianee again, smiling eagerly as he watched General Rocazin carry in a broad, well-laden platter.  From far down the hall came the echoey sound of singing.

“Your people welcome you home,” said General Rocazin as she set down the tray.  “Your return has been eagerly awaited.  The people of the Duzky have offered to the Six Founder Gods and Goddesses every ten days since the Twelfth Month began. ”  She watched Merinex and Zhanf leave the room, and added, “It has been a hard time for most everyone.”

“But singing,” said Ninianee, feeling touched by this unexpected outpouring of good-will.

“They’re relieved to have you back,” said General Rocazin, smiling faintly.  “There’s something I want to say to you, but this may not be a good time.”

“Say what you will, General Rocazin,” Ninianee invited.

General Rocazin considered the offer, then said in a rush, “A few days before he died, Ruch and I were talking about the state of mind of the people of the Castle.  He said then that he thought they all behaved as if they feared you and your sister and father had been driven away by some malefic force.  At the time I thought little of his remark, since he had nothing to support it,  but now I am sure he sensed something, though it may have been his own danger, not yours.”  Her brows arched as if to punctuate what she said, implying there was more than polite purpose in her remarks.

“That doesn’t sound like the kind of thing Ruch would say, not without some kind of evidence to support it,” Ninianee observed, her words catching in her throat as she began to comprehend she would never see him again.  “He usually wasn’t vague or imprecise in his remarks.”

“No, it doesn’t sound like him, but it is the kind of observation – ” General Rocazin stopped as she studied Doms.

Doms made a half-respect.  “There are many things Duzeon Ninianee will need to learn about in the next few days.  She will gather her information before she makes any but the most urgent decisions.  What you’ve told the Duzeon is valuable to her, particularly since your concern for this Castle and its people has never been in doubt, has it?”

“No; never,” said Ninianee for General Rocazin.  “I’ll rely on you in the coming days to keep me fully informed of all that has transpired in my absence, General.”  She nodded to Doms.  “Thank you for taking such good care of Vildecaz Castle, General Rocazin.  Doms is right to recognize your service.”

There was a softening of Rocazin’s features.  “You’re doing much good for this Duzky and for your family, Duzeon,” she said to Ninianee.

“So are you,” said Ninianee, returning the respect.

* * *

By the time the celebrations of First Night had ended, Ninianee had received more than thirty reports on Vildecaz from all the divisions of labor and activity within its precincts, accepted the good wishes from the Provo Magsto from the Library of Duz Kinzyrach, heard the year-end shipping totals from harbor-master of Valdihovee, listened to the acrimonious congratulations of Maeshar of Otsinmohr  – “If you had
told me you were holding out for a Yaolaj, I’m sure I could have found you a better one that the one you’ve chosen,”  – been presented with tokens and gifts from the major Guilds in the Duzky of Vildecaz, and agreed to meetings with many of those who had called upon her for various convenient days during the next two weeks.  She had joined all the guests in a lavish feast accompanied by a consort of musicians playing traditional First Day songs.  The ceremonies had ended  with sanctioned offerings to Agnith, the Preternatural; Hevomaj, the Stalwart; Tsoraj, the Enduring; Lenchmai, the Informer; Bandikrion, the Destinizer, and all manner of lesser gods and goddesses.  The whole of the Great Hall had rung with festive sounds, and as the guests departed to their private apartments or their guest-rooms, there was a an air of jollification that no one thought the least inappropriate.  By the time the spell-hounds performed their nightly patrol of the Castle, she wanted nothing so much as another four days on the Boarthine Plateau with only Doms and drouches for company.